Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

In Sorrow

In Sorrow

As I mould into the denseness of darkness,
Will,
Will my brown stand out?
As images of one eyed,
One-legged souls
Torment.
One eyed one-legged souls!
As Images of unimaginable poverty appear,
Here,
There!
Here,
There!
Everywhere!
Will this brown of mine stand strong?

Will my resilience in brown succeed?
Is there hope at the sight of my people’s pain?
People of this my continent
This my Africa?
My people
Crippled by their past,
Crippled by their present,
The blackness of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me,
To suck me into the extinction of my brown.
So let me cry crystal, clear tears.
Let me cry to erase
The pain that crushes my soul.
I am in pain!
My people are in pain!
Here! There!
Everywhere!

Different levels of pain,
In Different levels of poverty!

I want to board the train to the core of my motherland,
Maybe sing a song,
Cry a verse in dedication
To my pauperized,
Enslaved continent.
That seeks hope in fat bellied religion,
In fat bellied politicians,
In fat bellied donors
In the hopes of paradise.
Fairytales in the modern reality.
Who shall I fight?
Who shall I blame?
Fight with the world that has recreated fantasies into realities?
I try to fight a war against nothing,
Shall I give in to nothing to create something?
I shall then recreate new earth,
Of words sung on hilltops,
Pain eased in poetry.
Song and dance.

Maybe then after my epiphany
Shall l say:
Africa reborn you shall be
Africa!
Now maybe the past shall be
And future recreated in young hearts that burn with rage
Why wait for the messiah
When you can be your own salvation?
Why wait in pain?
When joy can be recreated,
In words that form songs
Sung on hilltops
In remembrance
Strengthening the young blood of Africa
Strengthening their cause.

Here! There!
Everywhere!

As I mould into the denseness of darkness,
Will,
Will my brown stand out?
As images of one eyed,
One-legged souls
Torment.
One eyed one-legged souls!
As Images of unimaginable poverty appear,
Here,
There!
Here,
There!
Everywhere!
Will this brown of mine stand strong?

Will my resilience in brown succeed?
Is there hope at the sight of my people’s pain?
People of this my continent
This my Africa?
My people
Crippled by their past,
Crippled by their present,
The blackness of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me,
To suck me into the extinction of my brown.
So let me cry crystal, clear tears.
Let me cry to erase
The pain that crushes my soul.
I am in pain!
My people are in pain!
Here! There!
Everywhere!

Different levels of pain,
In Different levels of poverty!

I want to board the train to the core of my motherland,
Maybe sing a song,
Cry a verse in dedication
To my pauperized,
Enslaved continent.
That seeks hope in fat bellied religion,
In fat bellied politicians,
In fat bellied donors
In the hopes of paradise.
Fairytales in the modern reality.
Who shall I fight?
Who shall I blame?
Fight with the world that has recreated fantasies into realities?
I try to fight a war against nothing,
Shall I give in to nothing to create something?
I shall then recreate new earth,
Of words sung on hilltops,
Pain eased in poetry.
Song and dance.

Maybe then after my epiphany
Shall l say:
Africa reborn you shall be
Africa!
Now maybe the past shall be
And future recreated in young hearts that burn with rage
Why wait for the messiah
When you can be your own salvation?
Why wait in pain?
When joy can be recreated,
In words that form songs
Sung on hilltops
In remembrance
Strengthening the young blood of Africa
Strengthening their cause.

Barbra Breeze Anderson

Featured Poem:

Monotomy of being

Featured Poem:

Monotomy of being

Country forever frozen
Singing melodies of pain,
Melodies that swell in the air.
Country
Of once half buried faces
In the earth,
Of once murky,
Bloodied rivers
And unbridled cries.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

In silence lies the dread
For the night,
For the descending darkness,
With it idle,
Unresolved, nightmarish dreams.
In the hush lies hope,
Hope that bears no face,
No resemblance.
In hope and silence
Waits a once young man,
Now old haggard and wrinkled
Who waits under the baobab
For his beloved,
Beloved who ceases to exist.
In excruciating silence
Waits the young for the bus to pass,
For the dust to rise then settle,
For hope to appear then disappear.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Silent land of dry riverbeds,
And weary hearts.
Country of mud huts
And cattle pens.
Of the woman in the field,
On the grinding stone,
Of the philosophical man in the savannah.
Of the hoe digging,
Rain falling,
Seed sprouting,
Green then brown.
Of seasons
With reasons
For visions.
Of the grinding stone,
The trudge to the well,
Fire in the hearth
And love in the savanna.
Of reasons
For seasons
With visions.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Country forever frozen
Singing melodies of pain,
Melodies that swell in the air.
Country
Of once half buried faces
In the earth,
Of once murky,
Bloodied rivers
And unbridled cries.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

In silence lies the dread
For the night,
For the descending darkness,
With it idle,
Unresolved, nightmarish dreams.
In the hush lies hope,
Hope that bears no face,
No resemblance.
In hope and silence
Waits a once young man,
Now old haggard and wrinkled
Who waits under the baobab
For his beloved,
Beloved who ceases to exist.
In excruciating silence
Waits the young for the bus to pass,
For the dust to rise then settle,
For hope to appear then disappear.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Silent land of dry riverbeds,
And weary hearts.
Country of mud huts
And cattle pens.
Of the woman in the field,
On the grinding stone,
Of the philosophical man in the savannah.
Of the hoe digging,
Rain falling,
Seed sprouting,
Green then brown.
Of seasons
With reasons
For visions.
Of the grinding stone,
The trudge to the well,
Fire in the hearth
And love in the savanna.
Of reasons
For seasons
With visions.

Comments

Biography

Barbra Breeze Anderson is a performance poet, writer and designer. She started the art of performing in the year 2007 at the ‘Power In The Voice Competition’, a British Council sponsored event where she performed a short prose piece.

Barbra breeze the performance poet was born a year and seven months ago at the Book Cafe and since then has been exposed to frequent poetry slams such as the House of Hunger poetry slam at the Book Café. She has performed at Open Mic events and other poetry events at the Book Café/ Mannenberg such as Sistaz Open Mic and Mashoko events.

Barbra also took her poetry outside of the two venues to places such as Alliance France’s Chimoto poetry night and an Acoustic Night at the Symphony. She has performed at the Buddyz Annual Festival of the Arts (BAFA) 2009 at Harare Gardens and the Sixteen Days of Activism concert 2010. Barbra performed in Bulawayo in 2010, she has appeared on television and radio –Youth.com, Spot Fm’s various spoken word outlets and has featured in Newspaper articles from Newsday, the Daily News, Herald, the online regional news site Shout Africa and the online outlet Zimbo Jam. The articles have been profiles of her and her current projects.

Early this year she performed at a community based event ‘Step Up’ 2011 at the Aquatic Sports club in Chitungwiza and at the monthly ongoing Mashoko event at the Mannenberg. She performed at the U.S Embassy Black History Event 2011 at the Ambassadors House in early February. Barbra is now working on various projects, one that she has put into effect is a monthly Poetry night event called ‘Poetry And’ launched in April 2011 where poetry is fused with different genres of art. She is working with some of the best of Zimbabwe’s spoken word artists and she intends to make it a success.

Barbra has participated at the first edition of Shoko Spoken Word and Hip Hop Festival 2011 and she has performed her poetry at a Pamberi trust project-a Concert for Non Violence 2011, in Highfield, in September this year and at the Acoustic Night, November 2011 edition.

For the year 2012, she opened it as part of the poets of the spoken word section at Harare International Festival of the Arts (Hifa), 1-6 May edition, where she hosted and performed at the Hivos Poetry Café.

Barbra Breeze Anderson

Biography

Barbra Breeze Anderson is a performance poet, writer and designer. She started the art of performing in the year 2007 at the ‘Power In The Voice Competition’, a British Council sponsored event where she performed a short prose piece.

Barbra breeze the performance poet was born a year and seven months ago at the Book Cafe and since then has been exposed to frequent poetry slams such as the House of Hunger poetry slam at the Book Café. She has performed at Open Mic events and other poetry events at the Book Café/ Mannenberg such as Sistaz Open Mic and Mashoko events.

Barbra also took her poetry outside of the two venues to places such as Alliance France’s Chimoto poetry night and an Acoustic Night at the Symphony. She has performed at the Buddyz Annual Festival of the Arts (BAFA) 2009 at Harare Gardens and the Sixteen Days of Activism concert 2010. Barbra performed in Bulawayo in 2010, she has appeared on television and radio –Youth.com, Spot Fm’s various spoken word outlets and has featured in Newspaper articles from Newsday, the Daily News, Herald, the online regional news site Shout Africa and the online outlet Zimbo Jam. The articles have been profiles of her and her current projects.

Early this year she performed at a community based event ‘Step Up’ 2011 at the Aquatic Sports club in Chitungwiza and at the monthly ongoing Mashoko event at the Mannenberg. She performed at the U.S Embassy Black History Event 2011 at the Ambassadors House in early February. Barbra is now working on various projects, one that she has put into effect is a monthly Poetry night event called ‘Poetry And’ launched in April 2011 where poetry is fused with different genres of art. She is working with some of the best of Zimbabwe’s spoken word artists and she intends to make it a success.

Barbra has participated at the first edition of Shoko Spoken Word and Hip Hop Festival 2011 and she has performed her poetry at a Pamberi trust project-a Concert for Non Violence 2011, in Highfield, in September this year and at the Acoustic Night, November 2011 edition.

For the year 2012, she opened it as part of the poets of the spoken word section at Harare International Festival of the Arts (Hifa), 1-6 May edition, where she hosted and performed at the Hivos Poetry Café.

In Sorrow

In Sorrow

As I mould into the denseness of darkness,
Will,
Will my brown stand out?
As images of one eyed,
One-legged souls
Torment.
One eyed one-legged souls!
As Images of unimaginable poverty appear,
Here,
There!
Here,
There!
Everywhere!
Will this brown of mine stand strong?

Will my resilience in brown succeed?
Is there hope at the sight of my people’s pain?
People of this my continent
This my Africa?
My people
Crippled by their past,
Crippled by their present,
The blackness of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me,
To suck me into the extinction of my brown.
So let me cry crystal, clear tears.
Let me cry to erase
The pain that crushes my soul.
I am in pain!
My people are in pain!
Here! There!
Everywhere!

Different levels of pain,
In Different levels of poverty!

I want to board the train to the core of my motherland,
Maybe sing a song,
Cry a verse in dedication
To my pauperized,
Enslaved continent.
That seeks hope in fat bellied religion,
In fat bellied politicians,
In fat bellied donors
In the hopes of paradise.
Fairytales in the modern reality.
Who shall I fight?
Who shall I blame?
Fight with the world that has recreated fantasies into realities?
I try to fight a war against nothing,
Shall I give in to nothing to create something?
I shall then recreate new earth,
Of words sung on hilltops,
Pain eased in poetry.
Song and dance.

Maybe then after my epiphany
Shall l say:
Africa reborn you shall be
Africa!
Now maybe the past shall be
And future recreated in young hearts that burn with rage
Why wait for the messiah
When you can be your own salvation?
Why wait in pain?
When joy can be recreated,
In words that form songs
Sung on hilltops
In remembrance
Strengthening the young blood of Africa
Strengthening their cause.

Here! There!
Everywhere!

As I mould into the denseness of darkness,
Will,
Will my brown stand out?
As images of one eyed,
One-legged souls
Torment.
One eyed one-legged souls!
As Images of unimaginable poverty appear,
Here,
There!
Here,
There!
Everywhere!
Will this brown of mine stand strong?

Will my resilience in brown succeed?
Is there hope at the sight of my people’s pain?
People of this my continent
This my Africa?
My people
Crippled by their past,
Crippled by their present,
The blackness of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me,
To suck me into the extinction of my brown.
So let me cry crystal, clear tears.
Let me cry to erase
The pain that crushes my soul.
I am in pain!
My people are in pain!
Here! There!
Everywhere!

Different levels of pain,
In Different levels of poverty!

I want to board the train to the core of my motherland,
Maybe sing a song,
Cry a verse in dedication
To my pauperized,
Enslaved continent.
That seeks hope in fat bellied religion,
In fat bellied politicians,
In fat bellied donors
In the hopes of paradise.
Fairytales in the modern reality.
Who shall I fight?
Who shall I blame?
Fight with the world that has recreated fantasies into realities?
I try to fight a war against nothing,
Shall I give in to nothing to create something?
I shall then recreate new earth,
Of words sung on hilltops,
Pain eased in poetry.
Song and dance.

Maybe then after my epiphany
Shall l say:
Africa reborn you shall be
Africa!
Now maybe the past shall be
And future recreated in young hearts that burn with rage
Why wait for the messiah
When you can be your own salvation?
Why wait in pain?
When joy can be recreated,
In words that form songs
Sung on hilltops
In remembrance
Strengthening the young blood of Africa
Strengthening their cause.

Featured Poem:

Monotomy of being

Featured Poem:

Monotomy of being

Country forever frozen
Singing melodies of pain,
Melodies that swell in the air.
Country
Of once half buried faces
In the earth,
Of once murky,
Bloodied rivers
And unbridled cries.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

In silence lies the dread
For the night,
For the descending darkness,
With it idle,
Unresolved, nightmarish dreams.
In the hush lies hope,
Hope that bears no face,
No resemblance.
In hope and silence
Waits a once young man,
Now old haggard and wrinkled
Who waits under the baobab
For his beloved,
Beloved who ceases to exist.
In excruciating silence
Waits the young for the bus to pass,
For the dust to rise then settle,
For hope to appear then disappear.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Silent land of dry riverbeds,
And weary hearts.
Country of mud huts
And cattle pens.
Of the woman in the field,
On the grinding stone,
Of the philosophical man in the savannah.
Of the hoe digging,
Rain falling,
Seed sprouting,
Green then brown.
Of seasons
With reasons
For visions.
Of the grinding stone,
The trudge to the well,
Fire in the hearth
And love in the savanna.
Of reasons
For seasons
With visions.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Country forever frozen
Singing melodies of pain,
Melodies that swell in the air.
Country
Of once half buried faces
In the earth,
Of once murky,
Bloodied rivers
And unbridled cries.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

In silence lies the dread
For the night,
For the descending darkness,
With it idle,
Unresolved, nightmarish dreams.
In the hush lies hope,
Hope that bears no face,
No resemblance.
In hope and silence
Waits a once young man,
Now old haggard and wrinkled
Who waits under the baobab
For his beloved,
Beloved who ceases to exist.
In excruciating silence
Waits the young for the bus to pass,
For the dust to rise then settle,
For hope to appear then disappear.

Hush of country
That waits for the messiah.

Silent land of dry riverbeds,
And weary hearts.
Country of mud huts
And cattle pens.
Of the woman in the field,
On the grinding stone,
Of the philosophical man in the savannah.
Of the hoe digging,
Rain falling,
Seed sprouting,
Green then brown.
Of seasons
With reasons
For visions.
Of the grinding stone,
The trudge to the well,
Fire in the hearth
And love in the savanna.
Of reasons
For seasons
With visions.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

In Sorrow

In Sorrow

As I mould into the denseness of darkness,
Will,
Will my brown stand out?
As images of one eyed,
One-legged souls
Torment.
One eyed one-legged souls!
As Images of unimaginable poverty appear,
Here,
There!
Here,
There!
Everywhere!
Will this brown of mine stand strong?

Will my resilience in brown succeed?
Is there hope at the sight of my people’s pain?
People of this my continent
This my Africa?
My people
Crippled by their past,
Crippled by their present,
The blackness of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me,
To suck me into the extinction of my brown.
So let me cry crystal, clear tears.
Let me cry to erase
The pain that crushes my soul.
I am in pain!
My people are in pain!
Here! There!
Everywhere!

Different levels of pain,
In Different levels of poverty!

I want to board the train to the core of my motherland,
Maybe sing a song,
Cry a verse in dedication
To my pauperized,
Enslaved continent.
That seeks hope in fat bellied religion,
In fat bellied politicians,
In fat bellied donors
In the hopes of paradise.
Fairytales in the modern reality.
Who shall I fight?
Who shall I blame?
Fight with the world that has recreated fantasies into realities?
I try to fight a war against nothing,
Shall I give in to nothing to create something?
I shall then recreate new earth,
Of words sung on hilltops,
Pain eased in poetry.
Song and dance.

Maybe then after my epiphany
Shall l say:
Africa reborn you shall be
Africa!
Now maybe the past shall be
And future recreated in young hearts that burn with rage
Why wait for the messiah
When you can be your own salvation?
Why wait in pain?
When joy can be recreated,
In words that form songs
Sung on hilltops
In remembrance
Strengthening the young blood of Africa
Strengthening their cause.

Here! There!
Everywhere!

As I mould into the denseness of darkness,
Will,
Will my brown stand out?
As images of one eyed,
One-legged souls
Torment.
One eyed one-legged souls!
As Images of unimaginable poverty appear,
Here,
There!
Here,
There!
Everywhere!
Will this brown of mine stand strong?

Will my resilience in brown succeed?
Is there hope at the sight of my people’s pain?
People of this my continent
This my Africa?
My people
Crippled by their past,
Crippled by their present,
The blackness of sorrow threatens to overwhelm me,
To suck me into the extinction of my brown.
So let me cry crystal, clear tears.
Let me cry to erase
The pain that crushes my soul.
I am in pain!
My people are in pain!
Here! There!
Everywhere!

Different levels of pain,
In Different levels of poverty!

I want to board the train to the core of my motherland,
Maybe sing a song,
Cry a verse in dedication
To my pauperized,
Enslaved continent.
That seeks hope in fat bellied religion,
In fat bellied politicians,
In fat bellied donors
In the hopes of paradise.
Fairytales in the modern reality.
Who shall I fight?
Who shall I blame?
Fight with the world that has recreated fantasies into realities?
I try to fight a war against nothing,
Shall I give in to nothing to create something?
I shall then recreate new earth,
Of words sung on hilltops,
Pain eased in poetry.
Song and dance.

Maybe then after my epiphany
Shall l say:
Africa reborn you shall be
Africa!
Now maybe the past shall be
And future recreated in young hearts that burn with rage
Why wait for the messiah
When you can be your own salvation?
Why wait in pain?
When joy can be recreated,
In words that form songs
Sung on hilltops
In remembrance
Strengthening the young blood of Africa
Strengthening their cause.